Free Shadow on the Land by Wayne D. Overholser Page A

seen it, knowing what the consequences of her decision might be, but still holding to that decision. She said: “I have thought about it.”
    There was no point in continuing the argument. Lee was less interested in the moral issues of the question than he was in the concrete problem of gaining the right to cross her and her neighbors’ land without trouble-breeding court proceedings. He had made a significant gain in securing her admission that, of the two evils, she would choose the Oregon Trunk as the lesser. That admission had worried Quinn, and a degree of satisfaction rose in Lee. For the moment both of them were blocked, but given time and the opportunity to use the special talents Stevens had mentioned, Lee Dawes would have the right of way.
    Lee nodded cheerfully. “Thanks for the breakfast.”
    She relaxed, her blue eyes softening. “Willie paid for that.”
    Picking up his derby, he said good bye and left the house.
    Lee found Highpockets doubled over in laughter, Quinn shaking a fist at him, and swearing fiercely. Highpockets straightened up, and wiped his eyes. “You ought to have seen his face, Lee, when he found out them tires was all right.”
    â€œNothing but a sneaking trick to get me out of the house,” Quinn said bitterly. “I’ve got a notion to hit this drink of water so hard his skull will pop out through his head.” Then anger went out of Quinn, as Lee had seen happen so many times, and he grinned. “Well, I guess you didn’t get anywhere with that lady.”
    â€œAbout as far as you did. I’m glad to see you again, Mike. Been a long time.”
    Their eyes locked, minds reaching back over their common years, and Quinn nodded. “Ditto, and I guess we’ll be seeing each other quite a bit. You’re still fast on your feet, son.” He motioned toward the car. “I lied about this rig breaking down so she’d put me up all night. Thought I’d talk to her some more today. Didn’t figure on you showing up.”
    â€œYou never know women,” Lee taunted. “If you had, you’d have seen last night that she meant no when she said no.”
    â€œAnd you’re claiming you know women?”
    â€œI make out.”
    â€œNot with a brunette you met on the Inland Belle .”
    â€œI didn’t do so bad. By the way, where is she?”
    â€œThat would be none of your business. The claim’s staked out, Dawes.”
    Lee fished for his pipe, wondering at the quick tension that gripped Quinn. “So it’s staked out, is it?” he asked.
    â€œYou bet it is, and you’d better stick to railroading.” Quinn, wheeling, strode into the barn.
    Highpockets had already hitched up the livery team. He drove up now, and Lee climbed in. Settling back into the seat, Lee pulled steadily on his pipe while they followed the twin ruts to the road. He thought about the southern lift of the land, and the strategic position this central Oregon plateau held.
    â€œI heard that if they built a railroad through here,” he said, “they could start two freight cars from a point south of Bend, give one a push north and the other a push south, and the damned cars would roll clear to Portland and San Francisco.”
    â€œSounds about like some of my yarns.” Highpockets chuckled.
    Lee scanned the notched skyline of the Cascades running from Bachelor and Broken Top north to Mount Hood and, turning his head, stared at the rugged spread of barren hills stretching away to the east.
    â€œQuite a country, ain’t it, son?” Highpockets asked with the pardonable pride of a central Oregonian.
    â€œIt is that.” Lee pointed his pipe stem toward the mountains. “Talk about Harriman’s Fence. Looks like Nature put one up herself.”
    Highpockets gave him a quick glance. “That’s why the Deschutes cañon is so important to your railroad outfits. There are passes